


The John Fixation.

by cybernetic_eve



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 01:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/656600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybernetic_eve/pseuds/cybernetic_eve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock makes a startling discovery and becomes obsessed with getting to the bottom of it. </p>
<p>100% pure smut by volume.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The John Fixation.

Sherlock burst through the door of 221B Baker Street in an excited huff, shouting something about a serial killer as his hands moved frantically through his hair. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Jesus christ, Sherlock!” John shouted from the couch, trying to hide his erection behind his laptop. “Do you know how to knock?”

“Um. What are you doing, John? We have a case.” Sherlock looked confused and more than a little intrigued.

“What does it look like I was doing?” John looked like he was about to punch his flatmate in the face. “I was having a wank.”

Rather than making a hasty and humiliated retreat, Sherlock stepped forward. At least he had the good courtesy to shut the door behind him. The detective’s bright blue eyes fixed onto John as he struggled his trousers up and over his hips.

“I heard you having one in the shower this morning.” Sherlock stated with textbook neutrality. “I sincerely hope you’re using lubricant because you’re going to chafe yourself at this rate.”

“Sherlock-” John groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Were you watching men? I heard men’s voices.” Sherlock continued, fascinated.

“We are not having this conversation right now.” John snapped his laptop shut and shoved it off his lap. “I’ll be in the shower. And please please don’t come barging in.”

The bathroom door slammed shut.

Sherlock smirked and his mind immediately shifted back to the case. A moment later his mobile beeped. It was Lestrade: “Caught him.”

The detective sighed dramatically and slouched against the wall. He slid his phone back into his pocket with an overwhelming sense of defeat. Then his cold eyes flicked to John’s laptop. Smirking, he scooped it up and folded himself into his favorite armchair.

He checked the downloads folder first. Nothing but some tedious surgical articles and a few uninteresting recipes. He flicked open the browser history. Wiped clean. With a growl of frustration, he snapped the computer shut and shoved it away. Sherlock felt like the entire world was mercilessly teasing him today.

As soon as he heard the shower switch on, he lept up the stairs into John’s room. He checked all the obvious places for pornography stashes. Beneath the mattress: nothing. Hidden in the closet: nothing. In the bedside table: nothing.

“Wait.” Sherlock breathed with excitement. He reached into the drawer and snatched up a small plastic bottle of lubricant.

The pipes groaned as the shower shut off.

Sherlock collected the lube as evidence, naturally, and trotted down the stairs with a pleased smile on his face.

 

“G’night, Sherlock.” John yawned around midnight and shuffled upstairs to his room. They hadn’t really spoken about the masturbation incident since it happened.

“Goodnight, John.” Sherlock’s fingers flew over his laptop keys as he updated his website with newly analyzed forms of exotic tobacco ash. His eyes remained focused on the glowing screen until he heard John’s door click quietly shut. Overcome by intense fascination, he decided to give John’s laptop another search, having previously overlooked the fact that John may be hiding his pornography in an innocuously named folder on his hard drive.

Sherlock reached a long thin arm over to the side table where John kept his laptop.

It was empty.

Sherlock jumped up, glaring suspiciously at the table. He gasped, realizing John must have taken the computer upstairs with him.

“But why?” Sherlock’s thin fingers drummed restlessly on the table as he thought it over. Maybe John still had a bit of work to do before he went to sleep and wanted to do it from the privacy of his room. Or perhaps John didn’t trust Sherlock with his laptop anymore. Or-

A long pleasant sigh shuddered through his wiry frame.

Perhaps John was watching porn. Right. Now.

The thought was almost too much for Sherlock to handle. He sprang up and paced around in the dark, scheming ways to test his theory. Perhaps he could listen at the door? Or knock politely before allowing himself in? Or skip the knock and just barge in? He realized with frustration that If he had planned this far enough in advance, he could have slipped into John’s closet and watched him.

The image threatened to short-circuit his brain. John lying in bed, fisting his cock as he watched men debauch each other. Sherlock imagined the lovely growls John would make as he came, head thrown back against his pillow.

With a little murmur of surprise, he felt a scarcely awakened heat flare up between his legs.

“Intriguing.” He whispered and tugged at the ties of his dressing gown. Slipping quietly into the bathroom, he put John’s “evidence” to good use.

 

Sherlock waited for John to leave for work the next morning before sneaking into his room and confiscating the laptop. Curiosity smoldered in his brain as he sat down at the kitchen table, quickly and easily hacking John’s password.

Sherlock’s dark eyebrows peaked.

John’s browser history wasn’t wiped today. Irritatingly, it was all just news sites and a few pictures of cats with obnoxious and grammatically incorrect captions. Sherlock groaned with obvious frustration as he flicked through the sites.

Wait.

He hovered over the link for a moment. He clicked it. After a second of load time, a video featuring two shirtless young men appeared. They leaned in and kissed each other hungrily, their lean athletic bodies rubbing together. A minute later they were having noisy sex with each other and Sherlock couldn’t ignore the tightness in his pyjama bottoms.

With one hand he slipped John’s lube out of his dressing gown pocket. The other hand worked his pyjamas down until his cock bounced eagerly out. Dripping some lubricant into his palm, he commenced to rub one out under the kitchen table.

Sherlock worked quick, tight strokes over his dick as he watched the two men fuck on camera. His mind wandered to a fantasy of him and John.

He tilted his head back into an open mouthed moan, eyes fluttering shut, as his semen splattered onto the kitchen floor.

The front door opened.

“Hey Sherlock, I forgot my briefcase-”

Sherlock lept up, chair clattering backwards. His blue eyes opened wide, heat burning in his cheeks. His dick was still hanging out of his pyjamas.

“I, er-” Sherlock stuttered, mouth opening and closing uselessly as his brain clamored feverishly for excuses. “Do you know how to knock?!”

Before John had time to open his mouth, Sherlock was slamming his bedroom door shut.

John blinked once, twice in silence. His brain slowed to a stand still. He scooped up his briefcase and made for the door. He thought better of it and turned around.

“Sherlock.” John called softly, tapping on his flatmate’s door.

No response.

“Sherlock, let’s talk. No need to be embarrassed.”

John waited a moment before letting himself in.

Blue curtains fluttered anxiously around an open window. As John went to shut it, he could still hear Sherlock’s footsteps echoing down the fire escape.

John rubbed his eyes and sighed, amazed by his flatmate’s ability to become ever stranger.

 

Just after midnight, Sherlock crept quietly back up the fire escape and into his bedroom. He gingerly slipped his clothes off into a neat pile on the carpet. Pulling on his dressing gown, he tip toed to bed and crawled in.

The thought of being back here, of being so close to John after this morning’s events made his stomach coil a bit. He snuggled into his pillows and began reciting the periodic table in his head as a way to take his mind off the uneasiness in his stomach.

There was a knock at the door. Sherlock’s heart froze. Hinges creaked and John slipped into the room, door clicking shut behind him. Sherlock’s eyes flew open.

“John?”

As Sherlock’s eyes adjusted to the shadow, he noticed John was wearing his dressing gown. Only his dressing gown. Sherlock’s gaze traced slowly up from John’s ankles, his well-shaped legs, up and up to where John curved and bulged under thin fabric. Sherlock clenched his fingers, wanting so badly to reach out and slip his hand up between John’s thighs.

“You know I, well, I was thinking about earlier.” John whispered, voice low and husky. Heat flushed up in Sherlock’s cheeks. “And, well-” John tried to describe something, then stopped, chewing on his lip. The detective suddenly felt stupidly jealous of his flatmate’s teeth.

“Have you ever had sex with a man, Sherlock?”

Heat blazed in Sherlock’s face. He nodded and whispered, “I’ve never really...I haven’t really had sex.”

“But you would enjoy it if you did? Right?” John stepped slowly towards the bed, hands sliding to his dressing gown tie.

“Yes,” His reply was a husky sigh, eyes crawling continuously over his mostly naked flatmate. Heat flared between his legs.

“Good.” John jerked his dressing gown open and threw it aside. 

Sherlock groaned at the sight of John’s naked body and his mouth watered for that long, thick cock. His brain was buzzing, trying to memorize every part of John.

“You know, I’ve never really had sex with a man either.” John continued. “I fooled around with some guys back at uni, but I didn’t fuck any of them.” His voice dropped to whisper. “Can I fuck you, Sherlock?”

Sherlock blinked rapidly in case he had fallen asleep, in case this was all a strange erotic dream. When he opened his eyes, John was still naked. He slid onto the bed. His hands trailed quickly but gently through Sherlock’s wild curls, down his cheek to firmly cup his chin. John’s eyes met his.

“Can I fuck you, Sherlock?” John repeated, this time a coarse whisper in Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock looked up, blue eyes wide, and licked his plump bottom lip. “Oh god yes.”

John leaned down and smiled into Sherlock’s mouth, pressing in for a surprisingly gentle kiss. Sherlock’s lips parted, allowing John to slide a slow hot tongue lazily between them. He moaned softly into the doctor’s firm mouth.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” John murmured, voice husky, as he trailed insistent open-mouth kisses down Sherlock’s pale throat.

“Imagined?” The detective’s eyebrows peaked as he moaned and leaned into John’s mouth.

John broke away, eliciting a small whine from Sherlock.

“Yes.” He licked along Sherlock’s jaw line, tongue flickering over his pulse point. “Take off your clothes, Sherlock.”

John leaned back on his haunches and stroked his dick as Sherlock frantically peeled off his own dressing gown. He hesitated, long fingers wrapped around the lip of his underwear. Coyly biting his lip, he fixed John with a smouldering gaze and waited.

“You know what I did after I caught you this morning? After you jumped out your window?” John wet his lips and his stroking turned erratic. “I had a wank to the video you left on my laptop. I had a wank and I imagined it was me fucking you.”

Sherlock gasped, eyes wide with heat and hunger. He was fascinated by John’s body, hypnotized by the muscular arm jerking over his flushed cock. His own erection throbbed against his thin briefs, aching to get closer to John. He purred, “Will you fuck me like that?”

“Christ, yes, I’ll fuck you like that.” The muscles in John’s thighs were twitching as he leaned forward and whispered hoarsely. “I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll have to bite your pillow as you scream my name.”

Sherlock nearly ripped his own briefs off. He threw himself at John, curling long fingers around the doctor’s head and crushing their mouths together. Sherlock moaned into John’s mouth when their dicks touched.

John stopped stroking himself just before he came and used his free hands to pull Sherlock into his lap.

He panted into Sherlock’s neck for a moment before leaning off the bed and reaching into the pocket of his dressing gown. He resurfaced with a condom and a bottle of lubricant. With his free arm he pulled Sherlock closer and they rutted against each other’s stomachs, cocks trapped between their bodies.

Sherlock moaned John’s name over and over as he picked up speed, grinding into John’s hips. Heat coiled in John’s stomach, between his legs. Gently, he peeled Sherlock off of him before he went over the edge.

“Lean back for me, love.” He guided Sherlock to lie down and pull his legs up. The detective obeyed eagerly, desire glinting in his dark eyes. John slid his fingers over the soft flesh on Sherlock’s inner thighs, massaging and working his way down to the shadow between his legs. He could feel Sherlock’s muscles relaxing under his palms.

Wetting his finger with lube, he pressed down on Sherlock’s entrance. The detective murmured, tensing up before finally relaxing into John’s touch. He traced small, careful circles over him before firmly sliding in.

“John.” Sherlock’s dark eyelids fluttered shut.

“You enjoying this?” John pushed deeper, sliding his fingers until Sherlock was nearly riding his hand.

“More.” Sherlock’s plea seemed to evaporate in the heat between them. His long fingers clawed mindlessly at John’s arms and shoulders.

John fingered Sherlock into a writhing mess.

“God, you look beautiful.” He leaned down and kissed Sherlock, their lips sliding frantically together. John’s fingers thrust faster into his flatmate. He pulled back but Sherlock’s mouth followed him, teeth locking gently over John’s bottom lip. His dark head fell back onto the pillow and he fixed John with a look, all hungry pleading eyes and flushed lips. The look said fuck me, John.

John groaned, his dick impossibly hard. Gently, he pulled his fingers from Sherlock. The other man whimpered a bit at the loss of contact, but immediately rolled onto his knees and pushed himself into John’s lap.

“Well aren’t you eager for it?” The doctor slid his tongue up Sherlock’s long quivering spine. He panted raggedly and nudged almost roughly against John. It was a demand.

Chuckling, John knelt between his flatmates long legs and toyed his dick head over Sherlock’s entrance before sliding inside of him. A loud moan burst from Sherlock’s lips and for a heart-wrenching moment he thought Mrs.Hudson had certainly heard them. Sherlock, impatient as ever, made a soft whimpering sound and started fucking himself on John’s dick. John groaned and pushed back, rolling his hips into Sherlock’s arse.

John slid his cock out to the tip and sank it slowly back in. He did it a few more times before the detective arched back, pressing hungrily into him.

“Harder.” Sherlock demanded. His head hung low, static blue eyes watching John through a nest of insanely tousled hair.

“Like this?” John grabbed onto his flatmate’s narrow hips and ground into him, their skin slapping in a feverishly hypnotic rhythm.

“Harder.” Sherlock made a strangled sound and dug his nails into the sheets.

“Christ, Sherlock-” He bit his lip and tried not to come. He leaned forward and nipped Sherlock’s neck, pressed hard frantic kisses all along his shoulders. Sherlock’s hand was working a furious rhythm on his own cock. John thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Less than a minute later he buried himself deep inside Sherlock and came. He shuddered and groaned as Sherlock made some truly lovely sounds into the pillows.

Panting heavily, John gently pulled out and rolled onto his back.

Sherlock, fluid as a cat, straddled John’s hips and wanked himself silly. He bit his lip white and with bright eyes devoured John’s body, John’s sweat sleek muscles smelling of sex, John’s dick still wet and hot from being inside of him. Sherlock’s back arched with a little ragged cry and he splattered warm cum onto his flatmate’s chest.

They remained there, panting and quiet, for a long time.

“God, you’re gorgeous, Sherlock.” John finally whispered, a hand lovingly stroking damp curls from Sherlock’s eyes. “How did I get this lucky?”

Through the dark, Sherlock grinned and snuggled in close. John wrapped a sturdy arm around him and traced idle little circles onto his belly. He felt Sherlock scooting back as far as he could, conforming around the curve of John’s body before sighing in contentment.

“This is perfect.” John nuzzled into Sherlock’s musky curls. “You’re perfect.”

Sherlock, on the verge of sleep, made a pleasant little murmur that John swore was “I love you.”


End file.
